Shadow Huntress
by Bibliophile of the Lotus
Summary: I am the Shadow, the most feared assassin alive. Lucky for the public, I am preparing for retirement after a decade of killing. Unfortunately for one man, I have one more job beofre I can relax: Valentine Morgenstern, CEO of Morning Star. This will be my greatest challenge and one slip up will end my life. Good thing I already have pawns in place, starting with Jace Herondale.
1. Finale

**Clary's Point of View**

In the darkness, I slipped through the shadows before stopping behind a corner. I peeked up, just the slightest bit. There she was, my unfortunate next victim. Her name was Camille Belcourt. I didn't know what heinous crime she had committed to provoke a certain Mister Magnus Bane to call for an assassin but I did know her state of being by the evening's end. She would be dead.

My name is Clarissa Fray, and I am the Shadow. The only thing people know about me is that I am an assassin. The refer to me as the Shadow, which is usually how I introduce myself to suspicious victims, seconds before they die. The never even have time to register what I say before leaving this cruel world. The next one to leave by my hands is oblivious that this night will be her last.

When I killed, I usually made the death quick and clean. No one would know what happened until it was too late. Unlike other assassins, I didn't 'sign' my kills. Despite my career choice, I did not enjoy the kill. It was simply a means to survive. Signing a victim with a fancy flourish was both a waste of time and helped law enforcement officers find the killer. It also meant you enjoyed the hunt. I only stomached my job because I had to, and because it made me feel better, thinking I was ridding the world of another selfish oppressor.

Camille Belcourt would die in a dark theatre, watching a dramatic performance of _Antony and Cleopatra._ The theatre was so dark that you couldn't see clearly. Even with my enhanced eyesight, I could only make out Miss Belcourt's silhouette. But it was enough for me to send an arrow straight into her heart. With the ark lighting and enticing performance, I wouldn't be surprised if no one found her until after the performance or during the intermission.

Finally, the lights dimmed. I kept my eyes trained on Camille Belcourt. I stayed that way for a long time, until I found the perfect opportunity. It wasn't until Antony went to beg Cleopatra's forgiveness that I finally notched my arrow. I drew back the string and released. The arrow whistled through the air. I didn't bother to stay to make sure she was dead. I had confidence in my abilities, so I hightailed it out of there before anyone realized I had been there. Not that it was difficult to get out. No one thought to guard the back entrance that led to the dumpsters.

Outside on the street, I pulled off my black gloves and black hood. Despite being in New York where abnormalities were very common, I didn't want to raise any suspicion. Now, I just looked like a regular young Yankee woman. Maybe a little on the gothic side, but relatively normal. I walked through Central Park, past numerous dog walkers. Innocent people oblivious to the fact they were walking in close proximity to someone who could probably take on a battalion of soldiers.

How I wished I could that naïve. Alas, I had been through too much in my young life to be able to so innocent and trusting ever again. I had one friend. He was my trainer, handler, mentor and step-father, Lucian Graymark. However, due to some alterations with clients who were unwilling to pay their debts, he changed his name to Luke Garroway. The only person who I could really be myself with. He was also dead. He died three months ago, after a rival handler sent an assassin to end him. He left me with only a list. A list of names of people to kill.

Amongst my never ending list of wishes, I wished I could walk straight home. Even just once in a while, heading straight to my meagre apartment would have been phenomenal. As an assassin, it was never safe to walk in a straight line. For years now, I always twisted around corners. If I had to hail a cab, I'd make them drop me off a good half mile away. Even if I was picking up something as trivial as groceries, I curved my way through the streets.

I looked down at my hands. With all the people they had killed, it was surprising they weren't permanently stained red. Someday, I would be able to stop killing. The day when I could find a real, mundane job. That day couldn't come any sooner.

* * *

The next morning, I scanned my list of victims. Hiring an assassin was a pricey thing. For each kill, I could make millions. After a decade of killing, I had quite of bit of cash. That, coupled with all the money Luke left me made me fairly wealthy. I scanned the list of victims. It was the last name on the list. The very last name I would kill for Luke. The thought made me sad, though I was glad to finally have a chance to find a career of my own. I didn't suffer through four years of business school for nothing.

I hoped my last victim would be someone simple and easy to take out. I should have known better than to get my hopes up. It was just so typical of Luke to end my career with a challenge. The last name on that list was Valentine Morgenstern. My birth father. Also known as the very shady and secretive President of America's most popular publishing company: Morning Star Publishing Corporation.

Although he was my father, I knew next to nothing about him. I knew he was evil and very paranoid. He didn't travel anywhere without a squadron of highly trained professional bodyguards. There was no way I could get that close to him without taking out his mock-army first. That would mean more deaths. But, I would honour Luke's last wishes. I was over the grieving stage, though I wouldn't tolerate his name being sullied by nobodies.

I knew I had a brother too, Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern. I knew what he looked like and how important he was. Jonathon wasn't the company's vice-President, but he was still the heir to the Morning Star. His vice-President was some golden boy, not much older than me. He was evidence that Valentine played favourites. His vice-President only received his position because his father had won favour with Valentine Morgenstern. Though, to retain such an important position, Mister Vice-President must at least have some expertise with business.

With a groan, I pulled out my laptop, ready to begin my research. I wouldn't dare go anywhere near the Morning Star without being prepared. Most importantly, I would have to go undercover for this one. There was nothing I hated more than going undercover for missions. On the bright side, at least I had the chance to use that degree in business I had painstakingly received.

I searched the Morning Star webpage, knowing that the Morgenstern men were very vain and loved attention. It was a given that they would post a list of the important employees. The first employee was obviously Valentine Morgenstern himself. A picture of him was on the left side of the page, next to a short biography. Though I wouldn't be surprised if it was actually an autobiography instead.

The next picture and biography was my brother, Jonathon. The important employee was Mister Vice-President. I couldn't use my father or brother, in fear they would recognize me. But the vice-president, a notorious womanizer, was an easy target. In fact, the golden boy was absolutely crucial to my success, as he would be appointing me as his personal secretary. I looked at his picture on the left and found he was very golden. Thick, golden curls coated his head while his amber-gold eyes blazed. His thin lips were twisted into a quirky smirk in the picture. A very good-looking target by the name of Jace Herondale.

I pulled out a notebook and started jotting down the key points I needed. I especially hated going undercover, as a single slip-up could ruined the whole mission. Going undercover was also time-consuming. Although, I may decide to stay at the Morning Star after killing Valentine, if it was possible. Over the years, when I wasn't being an assassin, I worked odd jobs at late night diners or gardened for snotty, rich families. A private secretary would be my most refined job to date.

I would have to shop for a new, more formal and business-like closet. Black, while good for hiding in shadows, wasn't the ideal colour to constantly wear in a more formal settings. It would draw attention, and attention was definitely what I didn't need. My favourite jobs were ones like Camille Belcourt's; the victim was in a dark surrounding where they would be an easy victim.

Out of curiosity and boredom, I decided to search up Camille Belcourt. Sure enough, she popped up. Numerous newspaper clippings said she was killed by an arrow in a New York showing of Antony and Cleopatra. I scrolled down to see the comments. Most of them revolved around why the murderer didn't use a modern weapon, like a handgun. I laughed at them. Bows and arrows were silent weapons, so no one would notice me. Obviously, I did know how to operate several different guns. Usually, they lay unused in my gun safe.

Camille Belcourt wasn't the first killing I searched up. Often times I'd end up utilising the internet to find out whether or not my victim was dead. I rarely stayed long enough to watch my victim die. The longer I stayed, the riskier it was. My Modus Operandi was to walk in, kill victim and walk back out. Too bad I couldn't do that with Valentine.

* * *

In less than two weeks, I managed to land myself a job as Mister Herondale's personal secretary. My plan was going along flawlessly, though it was too soon to see how successful it would turn out. I strutted along a Manhattan sidewalk, all business-like and poised. I looked like an average businesswoman hurrying to work; nothing out of the ordinary. No one had to know I was loaded with weapons. I had two knives strapped to my upper arms. Usually, I preferred to strap knives to my forearms, but as my blouse sleeves only went down to my elbow, I was forced to strap them to my upper arms. Hidden just beneath the waistline of my pencil skirt were poisoned darts meant to incapacitate, not kill. I had a few shurikens strapped to one thigh while two whips were strapped to my other thigh. One whip was a regular bullwhip, the other a heavier chain whip. Inside my black peep-toe pumps I had hidden a good number of emei daggers. My hair flowed down my back, concealing multiple kunai and some lock picks.

Perhaps, I was going a little overboard with now many concealed weapons I was carrying. But I never walked around without at least several concealed weapons. Especially when I was heading into unknown territory. Inside my blouse, I had managed to hide a small gun. Although, I'd decrease the arsenal of weapons on me as time passed. But I would never, ever so stupid as to walk around weaponless.

I arrived at the Morning Star. Without stopping, I walked straight into the building, into the reception area. A young woman, around my age, sat behind the desk, tapping away. Her nametag read 'Maia Roberts, Receptionist'. She looked up as I approached.

With a welcoming smile, she greeted me. "Welcome to Morning Star Publishing Corporation, how may I help you?"

I held out a stack of papers, showing my new status as an employee. Her eyes skimmed the first page quickly before she looked back at me. "You're the new personal secretary? I bid you good luck. Mr. Herondale is on the top floor. You will have no problems finding his office, I'm sure. Have a nice day."

I rode the elevator up to the twentieth floor. As the doors slid open, I admired the careful design of the place. The top floor was split in two halves, with a door on each side. The door on the left was labelled 'Morgenstern' with a pattern of stars on the doorway. The door on the right had a small, potted tree beside it. The tag on that door was 'Herondale'. I approached the door and without knocking, pulled it open.

Ashamedly, I realized I wasn't at all ready for the sight of Jace Herondale. His employee picture on the webpage did him no honour. In real life, he was sexy and drop-dead gorgeous. His lips were twisted into a smirk as he extended his hand towards me.

"Welcome. You must be Clarissa Fray, my newly hired secretary. I believe you have showed up early. Please, allow me to give you a run-down of how I expect things to be handled around here."

At that exact moment, I regretted choosing to work under Jace Herondale. How would I possibly keep an eye on Valentine Morgenstern if my sexy boss kept distracting me?

* * *

**Not too shabby, no? I originally wanted to make this idea into an original story, but I didn't want to go to the trouble of naming characters and writing up characters backgrounds.**

**Disclaimer: All Mortal Instrument characters are the property of Cassandra Clare.**

**Please, review and tell me what you think.**


	2. Distractions

"Miss Fray, I believe I did hire you to do some work, not admire my lovely, amorous body. Although, if you are interested, I may be in my office during your hour long lunch break. Alone." Jace Herondale smirked, as my cheeks flushed. Oh dear, I really should have thought this through better.

I stared into Jace Herondale's captivating golden eyes. As attractive as he was, I would be seriously pushing my luck if I got too close to him. He was a stepping stone, and only a stepping stone. I was here to get close enough to end Valentine Morgenstern. It didn't matter how attractive he was, he was still my boss and I still had a job to do. "Mr. Herondale, I am perfectly capable of doing work. I will also prefer to spent my lunch hour to myself and introduce myself to the other employees."

"Is that so? Well then, I will leave you now. Should you have any questions, feel free to ask me. On the rare occasion that I am not available for help, you may go next door to Mr. Morgenstern."

Go meet my own father before getting the chance to kill him? Fat chance of that happening. I would be doing my absolute best to avoid him. My brother, too. If either of them recognized me, I would most likely lose any chance of completing my quest. I would be easily identifiable to Valentine. I had inherited most of my mom, Jocelyn's, physical features. Thin, wiry frame, frizzing red-orange hair, vibrant green eyes. If I wasn't so short, I would have been able to pass as her twin if she hadn't died.

Once Mr. Herondale left, I relaxed and set my purse down on the shelf behind my desk. The room was very simple, but nice. A window across from my desk overlooked the Manhattan skyline. My L-shaped desk was place in the centre of the room, so there was room for a shelf behind me. A small potted plant sat on the windowsill. A quirk of being an assassin: simplicity was key. Be ready to relocate at any given moment. I couldn't afford expensive and cumbersome décor. That was why Luke and I only ever lived in the smallest and cheapest apartments with the oldest and cheapest second hand furniture we could get. It had become a contest between us; who could get the best deal on furniture. We both won an equal amount of times.

We didn't have many important belongings. Anything valuable was kept on our person. This office was perfect for my taste. There was even a beanbag chair in the corner. It looked out of place in such a formal surrounding, but the mismatched furniture added to my comfort. As long as I stayed locked up in my office for the majority of the day, I was safe. I only needed to arrive after Valentine and leave before him. As for Jonathon, I'd have to depend heavily on luck. It wasn't as safe as I would have liked, but I wasn't very well going to go to Jace Herondale and ask him for a detailed list of Jonathon Morgenstern's schedule.

It didn't take long before the phone began ringing off the hook. I'd never imagined Jace was this important. It seemed as if whenever I hung up on one person another would call. No wonder he needed a personal secretary.

I had just finished writing down that Mr. Herondale had a lunch date with a certain Alec Lightwood. I looked up from my day planner and saw Mr. Herondale walking in.

As usual, he was smirking. "Miss Fray, I see you are busy. I have a friend, by the name of Alec. Has he confirmed our lunch date?"

Oh, be still my beating heart. It matters little that my boss is Greek god sexy. To straighten my priorities, first kill Valentine, then do whatever is needed to stay hidden. Jace Herondale must stay as far away as possible. "Yes, I just finished jotting down your meeting with Mr. Lightwood. You are to meet him at a restaurant called Taki's Diner in your usual spot. You should meet him there at approximately one in the afternoon."

Taki's Diner? I, personally, had never been there but I had seen in ads how casual that place was. Teens and university students tended to frequent there. Aristocratic and illustrious vice-CEOs did not usually appear. Perhaps his friend was a student, and preferred a more casual place for lunch.

Mr. Herondale nodded. "Of course. Perhaps you should like to join us? We will have more than enough room to welcome you."

Fervently, I shook my head. "No, I will be fine here. I must take the necessary steps to settle in."

"How about some other time? I would like to know more about my personal secretary. You are my employee, after all."

I was getting the implication that he was not planning on backing down anytime soon. "But you hired me, did you not? Surely you read my file before hiring me."

"Oh I read enough to be sure you aren't a murdering psychopath. But the important part was how good you look."

Subtlety was apparently not one of his stronger suits. I shooed him out of my office without answering him.

One of the first things I learned about working as an assassin was to never get too attached. More attachments meant more weak chinks in your armour. The more weak chinks you had, the easier it would be to overcome you. And for an assassin, defeat meant death. Assassins never went down without a fight. And when they fought, they fought to the death. Otherwise, no matter how many restraints and sentinel you post to guard them, they would still find a way to escape.

I cleared my head, I turned back to the job at hand. Not killing Valentine, but my real job. Papers didn't file themselves and business meetings didn't plan themselves. I couldn't afford distraction. At least I was secluded here in my own office. Zoning out on occasion wouldn't hurt me too much here. Still, assassins usually took no risks.

* * *

During my lunch break, I should have been eating my meal like all the other employees. Instead, I was sitting at my desk, starving to death. In my haste to be prepared and properly armed, I forgot to pack a lunch. The building had a cafeteria, of course. It was a pretty big cafeteria too, from what I could see from the layout of the building. If I were a regular employee, with no other plans, I would have gone down there to eat, socialize and meet some other employees. But I feared that I would be discovered by Jonathon or Valentine Morgenstern. Especially Valentine. If I ran into Jonathon, there was a slight chance he distinguish me as a new red headed secretary. Although, he may decide to report everything to Valentine, which wasn't much better.

I typed away at my keyboard, ignoring my protesting stomach. I only had half a day left, four hours, before I could rush home and eat. Actually, I'd have to take a detour first. I groaned. Sometimes, being an assassin wasn't as glamorous as books and movies made it sound. I couldn't even leave my office on time because I had to be sure that no one who could recognize me was there.

Good assassins were stealthy. I knew I was a good assassin, but camouflage was tended to be more on the difficult side due to my flaming red hair. Red heads were common, but my particular shade of reddish-orange was peculiar and drew unwanted attention. More than once, I had contemplated dying my hair. I never did get around to it. I couldn't do it during an undercover mission but I never found time between hunts. Well, it was too late for regrets now. Sooner or later, I'd get around to dying my hair, if I decided to continue working as an assassin.

A series of quick raps on the door shook me our of my reverie. A tall, Asian girl poked her head in. "Miss Fray, there is someone here to see you. He says he knows Mr Garroway, and that you would understand once you meet him."

My curiosity piqued. Finally, a worthwhile distraction that would really be effective. "Send him in, then. Thank you Ms…"

"Aline Penhallow. Mr. Bane will be in shortly." She stepped out of the door way. I watched as the door clicked shut behind her. I rather liked being a business woman. A little stiff, but I obviously wouldn't be able to be an artist. Should my paintings propel me into fame, every would recognize me. An assassin's greatest nightmare.

Something, however, struck me as odd about the name. Bane…wasn't it a someone named Magnus Bane who hired me to kill Camille Belcourt?

I didn't have long to ponder, as the door swung wide open to reveal a very, very tall man who also had South-east Asian features. Like me, he was wearing a suit. It couldn't classify as formal, as it was coated with a thick layer of glitter. He had to be well over six feet tall; his lean figure made him seem even taller. His black hair was carefully gelled into colourful and very sparkly spikes.

I never really pictured what my clients might look like, but I know for sure that I didn't expect Magnus Bane to be quite so….glittery. Still, I managed to hide my surprise and greeted him like that posh and sophisticated business woman I was pretending to be. "Mr. Bane, I assume? How may I help you?"

He beamed. "How I love the bright people I get to work with! Smart enough to recognize me. Well, I know you are the one who…exterminated Camille Belcourt for me, and I simply must thank you for that. I know that your handler is very much dead right now, but I have another pain I would like to diminish. You see, I have a friend by the name of Simon Lewis. Rather boring gamer, I must say, but his old high school enemy is after him. It's sad that he can't move on with his life after and interesting incident where Simon turned Raphael's skin pink for two months, but I can't him threatening my friend. Well, I could, but the thing is, Simon Lewis is my boyfriend's sister's boyfriend and I don't want an arsenal of stilettos being aimed at my head. Isabelle isn't a force to be reckoned with."

I froze. He seemed to be making his request in earnest, but I couldn't be completely sure. By the looks of it, there were probably cameras in this room. Cameras, recording footage that could be used against me. This would be an excellent ploy to corner me. Innocently, I batted my lashes, pretending I hadn't the slightest clue was he was clamouring about. Magnus Bane didn't buy my act.

His smile dulled. "Miss Fray, I understand heartedly why you are so hesitant. Mr. Garroway informed me of how careful you are before his passing. I reassure you that I have turned off all security cameras between these four walls and I am offering you ten million to work your fancy assassins' magic on Raphael Santiago. Ten million dollars is nothing to joke about. So, do we have a deal?"

The fact that Magnus Bane was so openly enlisting me to kill someone would have won over most assassins by now. The ten million dollar pay check would also sway most of the rest who hadn't been convinced. But for me, money wasn't much of a luxury. Each assassin was trained differently. I was trained to be a minimalist. Only the essentials were needed. I liked to think that it helped me be a better assassin since I wasn't as easily swayed by money. Even so, it was difficult to refuse ten million.

Magnus Bane's heavy gaze rested on me, awaiting a reply. I decided to go against my gut instinct and trust that this was Magnus Bane. "Mr. Bane, I am sorry, but I am preoccupied with a different appointment. My current position could last for an indefinite amount of time. Then, I had retirement planned for after my current task."

"Miss Fray, this is will surely be a cinch for you compared to what you must have been through before. Raphael Santiago is very, very fond of dark locations. He is usually out and about during the night." Magnus Bane is a very persistent person, it seems.

"Mr. Bane, I cherish the amount of trust you are placing in me, but I cannot take this job. There are other assassins out there who would jump at the chance to help you. I'm sure you could approach them."

"Ah, but you see, Miss Fray, the thing is that I will either hire you, or not at all. I knew your mother, Jocelyn. She was a great friend of mine. If she could see you today, she'd be proud. Probably not of the killing part, but the fact that you grew up be a strong and able woman who can defend herself and her own beliefs."

"Are you trying to sweet talk me into killing this Raphael Santiago for you?"

"Of course not, sweetie. Well, I won't be wasting anymore of your precious time. Just know that my offer still stands. Should you change your mind, you can inform me at any time and I'll have the money ready for you as long as you alert me of Raphael's time of death."

I nodded and Mr. Bane left. Magnus Bane was definitely something. Most men did not strut around Manhattan wearing over-glittered suits while offering an assassin ten million or such an easy target. Although, stilettos were nothing to joke about. They were fairly effective as weapons though inconvenient to carry around. If I wore stilettos as shoes, they would provide me with a easily disguised weapon, but they were difficult to maneuver. I preferred footwear that was easy to run into without the risk of falling.

* * *

At two thirty, my door opened again. Jace Herondale stepped in again, with all his glory. He held a bag of fast food that had grease stains dotting the bottom.

"Miss Fray, I admire your dedication to my business plans, but I really don't enjoy calling an ambulance to save any employees who have passed out. I notice you are lacking food in your office, and you didn't go to the cafeteria. Don't bother asking how I know, for it doesn't affect you." He shoved the bag of food under my nose. "Now eat before I have to call the hospital."

As an assassin, I did know how to survive without food. Luke trained me to live without food for prolonged periods of time. I could last a good three and a half week without food and a full week without water. Although, words can not describe how I loathed those exercises Luke made me do. After each period without food or water, my appreciation for greasy and unhealthy fast foods and fizzy caffeine beverages escalated. Besides, just because I could live and stay conscious didn't mean I found it painless. One time I accidentally broke one of Luke's fingers because he was holding a bag of carrots too tightly.

I snatched the poor paper bag out of Jace's grip. I ripped open the seal and was met by the alluring aroma of grease.

Jace laughed, "Well, it's a good thing I have eyes and ears everywhere. Now, this may be a little too straightforward for you-it's very straightforward, even for someone like me-but Valentine is hosting another company soiree in two weeks. He claims that it's a good way to learn about your working environment and fellow employees so attendance is mandatory. But, we all know it's just another ploy to show off how much money and power he has over us. He hosts one pretty much every three months and anyone worthwhile has a date. Usually, I'd bring my latest fling or my personal receptionist, Aline Penhallow. I'm not sure if you've met her or not, though. But I'm lacking a fling right now and Aline discovered her newfound sexuality and refuses to do anything with me. She seems to be enjoying avoiding all men like we're an evil disease to be eradicated. So, would you like to save my dignity and come with me?"

Darnit. I had to go to a mandatory company ball where Valentine Morgenstern was undoubtedly lurking around. To make matters worse, I needed a date and my own boss, Jace Herondale, just asked me. I could have used this ball to my advantage, but with Jace on my arm, I couldn't exactly hide and throw a knife into the back of Valentine's neck without him noticing. Even if I was heartless and decided to shatter Jace Herondale's dignity a little bit, it probably wouldn't have worked. I didn't know how these balls went and I couldn't very well ask anyone without arousing suspicion. This certainly complicates things.

* * *

**Okay, this may seem to be moving fast, but there's good reason why this is the pace. You'll see, in maybe five or so chapters.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Mortal Instruments in any way, shape or form.**


	3. Dollface

Jace Herondale leaned against my desk, smirking. "Miss Fray, I reassure you, I will not try anything that could potentially harm you. Please, wipe that look of such horror off your face. It's doesn't suit you."

I contemplated my choices. If I went with Jace, I could relieve myself of the chore of finding a date. On the downside, Jace was so high up on the business hierarchy that I would probably be on arm the whole night. That would mean I wouldn't have any chance to bend the soiree to my advantage. But I've never been to a business soiree, so I didn't know what actually went on at one.

I was the Shadow, the assassin who was famed for their seemingly effortless ability to slip through the shadows unnoticed. Jace Herondale is only here because he's my key to getting close to Valentine. Unwittingly, he is helping me in more ways than imaginable. I never, ever depended so heavily on one person. People weren't dependable. I was sure Luke left me this mission to challenge me, to see how far I was willing to push myself to succeed. Well, the Shadow never backs down. Some assassins stayed in the exact centre of their safety bubble. I enjoyed pushing my limits, though I never did anything overtly drastic. Not simultaneously, at least.

I decided to take a risk. I smiled sweetly at Jace Herondale, as he was peering at me curiously. "Well Mr. Herondale, I thank you for explaining how things are done here. I will accept your generous proposition."

His lips twisted into what was probably his signature smirk. He probably thought I was a easy fish to catch. Well, he didn't know I had ulterior motives. In fact, the more impassive I appeared, the better. He wouldn't suspect a simpleton of being capable of perfecting murder techniques. He was also the type to be too trusting towards innocent looking little girls such as myself. As long as I kept up my façade consistently, there would be no problems. Although, I was walking along a fine line. Lean too much on one side and I get fired for being too slow. Lean too much on the other and my façade shatters. Ah, heck with it. This was my last and final job. I could push my limits to the very edge a little more.

After Mr. Herondale left, I suddenly realized how much time I'd have to take out of my schedule to accommodate my sudden agenda change. I'd been on numerous different undercover missions, but I'd never needed anything fancy or time-consuming. And on the occasion I did, Luke would deal with it for me. This was a completely different story. As good as I was at killing people, I had zero talent when dealing with cosmetics and real life dress-up. I'd have to cut back on my research time and/or my training sessions.

Maybe I should just pay someone to do all that girly stuff for me. All I'd have to do is slip on the dress and walk out the door. Although, in order to fit in, I'd need more than just a pretty dress. Human behaviour usually didn't make people unnaturally modest. At the beginning of my assassin training, I was the biggest little diva you'd ever see. But after years of scarcity, I grew accustomed to simplicity and began to turn my nose down at fancy, over extravagant items. It moulded me into the distant person I am now. Modesty is a second nature to me now.

But in order to succeed, I'd be going against everything I ever believed in. I was quite certain that Luke had left me this mission last as a final challenge. He loathed the thought of peaceful endings. As for myself, I full-heartedly believed that turbulent endings were much more captivating. Although, I much preferred the peaceful ending in reality. It was much easier to deal with, not to mention less tramatising.

But, a dress. I couldn't remember ever wearing a dress. On the rare occasions where I did wear casual skirts, I always had spandex underneath. Even now I was wearing spandex. My lifestyle wasn't ideal for girly things like skirts, but my closet consisted of everything. With the exception of a dress. But, times change. I would have to wear a dress. Nothing extravagant, of course. Something simple but lavish enough to not stand out.

God, this mission was deteriorating quickly.

* * *

By some stroke of luck, I ran into a budding fashion designer who knew everything about clothes and fashion inside out. One could say it was a chance meeting. After work, I stopped by a grocery store to buy some food. I was distracted by the most efficient way to take out Valentine so I walked into a very tall and gorgeous woman. If she wanted, she could have easily had a career in modelling. Her name was Isabelle Lightwood. I suspected she had some relation to the Alexander Lightwood who had lunch with Mr. Herondale earlier, but I chose not to pursue that.

I wasn't sure why she decided to play dress up and experiment on me, but I was too relieved to question her intentions. She was far to feminine to carry around weapons with her or have any skill with martial arts to be a threat. Her pin straight black hair and flawless cosmetics proved how easy it would be to overcome her in a fight. Her seven inch platform heels didn't help.

We chatted for a little bit at a small diner, a few blocks from my apartment. It was decided that we would meet in two days at the same diner so I could go to her place for measurements. Isabelle Lightwood had evidentially hinted that she would rather design a dress from scratch before stating it outright. Due to the two week time frame, she settled for buying a store gown and changing parts of it to suit her fantasy.

Isabelle Lightwood was so perky and optimistic. Innocent and naïve. The polar opposite of the person I'd become. I was only five years old when I first met Luke. Two years later, my mom died. That was when Luke started formally training me as an assassin. His strategy was harsh, but effective. Striking when the victim was weak and vulnerable was a dirty trick. I didn't remember my earliest training very clearly, but I know that Luke had erased what innocence I had and completely changed my personality. I don't know who I am anymore, but that's fine with me. I could care less about myself. Assassins can't afford too much self pity or else we could undo all of our training.

* * *

Now I was just walking back to my dinky little apartment. I navigated the streets in three times as much time than if I'd headed straight to my apartment. When you're an assassin, time isn't the most vitally unimportant variable. I couldn't risk the energy to spend it on being consistently punctual. However, I needed speed to keep me under the radar of law enforcement. The blame for most of my kills have been placed on someone else. I never felt pity for those acquitted for my crimes. They were usually serial or spree killers who were doomed anyways. One more life at their hands wouldn't change their fate. As for the kills that remained unsolved, they only lived on in file folders, locked away where no one would ever remember them because so much time had passed with no real leads. And so far, no one innocent has been accused of any of my crimes.

In my apartment, I ripped open a box of microwavable pasta. My lifestyle wasn't the healthiest, but I survived on the most essential basics. Over the years, I had my fair share of craving for indulgences. Luke blatantly refused me, each and every time it happened. Once, during my extremely short-lived rebellious teenage days, I actually sneaked out and went to treat myself at the most insanely overpriced restaurant in Manhattan. Every single customer and employee was staring at me my whole dinner. The experience wasn't all that enjoyable. It was got worse when I went home and found Luke. It took years to regain his trust. Not to mention another year of consistently repeated run downs of how dangerous the assassin industry could be.

After that incident, the most I ever indulged was on some sweets each year on the anniversary of my mother's death. The sweetness of candy numbed the sharp bitterness and pain associated with the death of someone close to your heart. Even Luke didn't argue with that. I didn't remember the intimacy of their relationship, but they were close enough that my mom ran away to him and trusted him to keep us safe. That being said, sometimes Luke indulged in more sweets than me whenever the anniversary rolled around again. In earlier years, he would indulge on bonbons for weeks approaching and weeks afterwards. As time went on, his indulgence diminished. It never disappeared completely, though.

* * *

The next too weeks passed without anything interesting happening. I didn't gain any useful new knowledge and I spoke to Jace Herondale just once to determine when and where he would come to pick me up. We decided at 5:30 in front of Isabelle's boutique.

This Saturday morning was the morning of the soiree. And Valentine's imminent death. I stood in Isabelle's bloutique. She had already painted my face and pulled my long locks into an updo. Despite my vow to shun all things superficial, I had to admit I looked good.

"So," she said, "now for the dress. I think you'll have at least one dress youre satisfied with. But since I gave you smokey makeup, you can match it with any colour. Although, I think darker looks better. Just my opinion though."

I hadn't put much thought into my dress or colour schemes. I was busy contemplating different ways to kill Valentine and the probability of success and whether or not I'd have to make a hasty getaway or if I could just melt into the crowd. It only occurred to me now that I had to look like I was a regular business woman.

"I have several looks planned. Let's start with the most risqué," Isabelle called out as she headed into a giant walk-in closet.

She came back holding a very short and very tight little green dress covered in sequins. The back was laced up, revealing quite a bit of flesh.

I stammered, "That dress? It's very tight…" It would be very difficult to hide weapons on my person if I wore that dress. Too much flesh was revealed and the imprints of any weapons I did manage to hide would likely be visible.

"You like loose? Fine. Suit yourself. I have other dresses that would appeal to you." Isabelle once again emerged from the closet. This time, she brought a heap of green dresses. She pulled the top dress off the pile.

That dress was champagne and equally short, although the skirt was quite looser. Still, I shook my head. "Too short."

The next dress was floor length and had a train. I could hide quite a few weapons in the skirt, but it would be difficult to reach without arousing suspicion. Not to mention the train would hinder my getaway. It also happened to be backless, which didn't suit me for obvious reasons.

"God," groaned Isabelle, "You're so picky. Choose yourself. I have paperwork to deal with. And a bill to write up."

Well someone had a short temper.

As she walked into her office, I pulled the dress on the bottom of the pile and stepped behind the changing curtain. The dress was a plum colour and had medium length sleeves, a high square neckline, was cinched at the waist by a matching belt and was knee length. Perfect. A floor length gown could have complicated any escape attempts. Plus, I could hide smaller weapons like darts under that belt. I could even slide weapons on my body if I loosened the belt.

I pulled on the dress as quickly as I could and open my tote bag which was filled with weapons. I strapped knives to my thighs as well as a loaded gun and two stilettos on each arm. Under my belt, I kept a few dozen darts, each and everyone of them tipped with a lethargic toxin.

I pulled out a necklace with seven triangular charms. Each charm was a casing for a small kunai dagger. On my fingers were rings that disguised emeicis. I couldn't do much for earrings, but I made sure I wore a pair with a sharp edge in case of emergencies. Of course, I made sure the necklace and earrings matched. Isabelle would likely have a hissy fit if she they didn't match. To be on the safe side, I even ensured they were black, jsut like my eyes. And because Isabelle has so graciously piled my chestnut hair in an elaborately layered updo, I was able to slide half a dozen lock picks, two shurikens and I wound a whip around my hair so that it appeared to be a hair band. I had two other whips wrapped on my upper arms, as well. I slid a few glaives to my abdomen as well.

I had four small daggers ready to slip under the soles of whatever heels Isabelle had planned. Hopefully they weren't too high or thin. That could impede on my getaway. I studied my reflection in the mirror. I couldn't the outline of anything under my dress. I looked perfectly normal.

Pushing aside the curtain, I revealed myself to Isabelle, who was apparently done with paperwork.

"Okay, despite my love for all things short and tight, I must admit that looks good on you. Even though you look more like a church goer. But, it's still tempting to guys. They see much less skin, so they have more to imagine…hmm, this could work out quite well." Isabelle, as I would soon discover, often dressed in accordance to what men would think.

"Hmm, I gues you prefer you're own jewellery. Well, fine by me. It looks surprisingly good with the dress."

Isabelle then thrust a pair of translucent silver pumps towards me. I shook my head, "Shoes those high? I'll fall on my face and break my neck."

She scoffed, "Oh please. You were wearing heels when we first met. You're so petite, you'd look prefect wearing these. For God's sake, it won't hurt you to wear these, okay?"

"Do you have something with a shorter heel, maybe? Thicker would be nice too. Oh, and something not translucent?"

She rolled her eyes, "If you're so bent on disagreeing with me. Hold on."

She handed me another pair of heels, this time a solid black with a solid wedge. It looked to be a three and a half inch wedge which while high, was tolerable as it wasn't a stiletto heel. The wedge was thick, too. I could easily slide my daggers in, along with a few more darts and lock picks. There was a reason why I liked wedges.

I took them from her. "Thank you. Now, please leave to me hyperventilate."

She smiled stiffly and returned to her office. With her back turned, I rapidly slid my little toys under the sole and jammed my feet into the shoes. I took a few steps to get the feel of it. Well, it could have been worse.

* * *

"Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?" Jace Herondale had spent the past two hours not-so-discreetly flirting with me. Me, and anyone who was both a woman and glanced at him. But as his date, I received the bulk of the force.

"Yes, "I said bluntly, "You've mentioned that. You've mentioned it several times, actually." I was doing my best no to let Jace Herondale affect me and I was doing a good job on it on the surface. But it wouldn't be much longer before the dam collapsed. I decided to focus on the task at hand. So far, I hadn't had a chance to take a shot at Valentine. I could have gunned down everyone in the room, and if I couldn't get to Valentine, I'd have to. But in my career as the Shadow, I've never had to do that and I sincerely hoped I could end my career on a high note. Not with the deaths of hundreds of innocents on me. I didn't kill for the thrill, I killed for survival.

"You seem distracted tonight, Clarissa. What's on your mind?"

"It's not important," I replied, briskly. There was no chance I'd reveal any of my plans for tonight. But, I was getting a little impatient. The sooner Valentine was dead, the sooner I'd be able to escape with the rampant and hysterical mob of people trying to escape. But that wouldn't happen until I was able to get close enough to Valentine.

"I beg to differ, Clarissa. Are you not satisfied with how this evening is turning out?"

Well, the Shadow was known for her dangerous actions. I decided to take a risk and see if I could meet Valentine. "I was just wondering where Valentine is. He is the host, is he not? I find is a bit peculiar that his presence is lacking."

I actually did know where Valentine was. Holed up in a corner of the room surrounded by bodyguards, surveying the noisy crowd. But, Jace Herondale didn't know that.

"You wish to meet the big guy himself? Come on, then. He'll be pleased to meet you. He also likes my personal secretaries." Huh, I wonder why. His other secretaries were probably also beautiful young women who were somewhat successful.

He clasped my hand and directed me across the room. Unconsciously I smiled. This was going to turn out just fine. Easier than I thought too. Another point for the Shadow.

* * *

**Two months...not bad. I have a story that I meant to update a year ago. Oopsies.**

**Disclaimer: I only wish I could be as amazing as Cassandra Clare.**

**I know I said at some point in this chapter that Clary is a brunette. She's the feared Shadow, the scarist assassin alive. Of course she's going to dye her hair. She's wearing contacts as well, if you haven't picked that up. Her hair will also be straight for a little while. Just another way of life for the Shadow.**

**I actually don't like this chapter very much. Too rushed, even for what I had planned. But, I wanted to post something before you guys all forgot about me. Well, you probably already did.**

**Now feel free to review. J'aime la gentils commentaires. =3**


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